i bLEed DaRk - Poems About Pain Life Heavy Metal and Jesus Christ Read online

  But it was not much help

  Next…it is all LIGHT

  I am saved!

  The power of God destroyed the devil’s hold over the earth

  THANK GOD!

  THANK GOD!

  You are so mighty

  You can not be defeated, even if it was

  The most powerful person in the universe!

  “Did'ju forget about Hell?”

  Did'ju forget about Hell?

  200,000 new souls disembark every day

  I was curious if you knew that

  Seems to me if you really did care

  It’d show in the things you say

 

  Did'ju forget about Hell?

  People slip-slide there every night

  I didn’t know if you were aware

  You seem more concerned about raises, upgrades

  And I don't think that's right

 

  Did'ju forget about Hell?

  Souls plunge into a ghastly war

  People like you and me

  Who used to try and save the world

  But don't even act like Christians anymore

 

  Did'ju forget about Hell?

  People explode through its iron gates

  Determined not to serve Jesus

  Cuz of our inexcusable hypocrisy

  Which begets nothing but God-hate

 

  Did'ju forget about Hell?

  I know it's not cool to talk about

  But we have teens and grandfathers

  Dying with no hope

  Recklessly headed for perpetual black-out

 

  Did'ju forget about Hell?

  Hundreds more turn up every hour!

  Screaming steaming seeming grisly

  People who used to be people

  With spirits lovely as April flowers

 

  Did’ju forget about Hell?

  Souls catapult through blistering doors

  Thinking they're invulnerable

  Right up until the moment

  They discover its fiery shores

  “Don’t Wanna Wake Up”

  Dedicated to AIDS victims the world over

  This final escape is a dark twilight

  Living’s the battle – I’m losing the fight

  One indiscretion has burned my house down

  Selfish pleasure relinquished my crown

  If God is the bastion for scoundrel ways

  If Heaven’s the honey which righteous ones taste

  If Blood is forgiveness for all who desire

  Then God please forgive me and save me from fire

  Cuz I don’t wanna wake up in Hell

  A fatal disease converts me to stone

  When you’re dying contagious pals leave you alone

  I’m sick of this circus – I’m sick of the clowns!

  So I touched His garment and felt love come down

  My body’s an altar of sacrifice

  In bargain with darkness my death will suffice

  Cessation of being – a demon desire

  The Lord crucified; died to save me from fire!

  Death’s sting is sin but Jesus, my Lord

  Covered the debt which I could not afford

  Healing is mine if it is God’s desire

  But if/when I die I’ll fly high above fire

  No, I’m not gonna wake up in Hell

  “Fight On, Mighty Warrior”

  For Travis Charles Allen (09/09/85 – 12/28/05), written and presented to him about six months before he passed away from cancer. He was the nephew of a co-worker, and I wrote the poem after hearing of his plight. I’m told he was deeply moved by it, and hung the poem right beside his bed, which remained there until the day he died. I only met him once, but we embraced as brothers, and the picture of our one-and-only meeting (above) sits in my office as a reminder of how precious and fragile life is.

  Rest in peace, my friend. See you soon…

  Travis,

  If one were to look straight into your soul

  And consider the wars that have taken their toll

  They’d swear to the heavens they’d seen an old man

  Who is worn in his spirit, yet firm in his stand

  You’ve felt more pain than most ever will

  While fighting the Reaper who seeks but to kill

  Yet here you stand before God and your clan

  So mighty and brave for such a young man

  The dragons you’ve slain (and the ones who still fly)

  Are tributes to how you refuse to die

  But remember, young warrior, you’re never alone

  There is One beside you whose Word is like stone

  Commander of armies of angelic spirits

  Who soar through sky. When it’s still, can you hear it?

  The brushing of angel’s wings and battle cries?

  The call of the One with the fire in His eyes?

  It’s Jesus, the Christ, Holy Warrior and Lord!

  S’got mud on His boots and blood on His sword

  He laughs at the wicked who trigger your lesions

  And butchers the demons who seek you in legions

  Stand bold and valiant with double-edged blade

  So your heart can find peace and you won’t be afraid

  Battle on, warrior! Fight right next to me

  And the One who fought Hell to set your soul free

  “From Death to Life”

  Death

  Is my curse

  A dreadful sinner

  In helplessness I observe

  My ravenous spirit grow thinner

  My character bathes in wounded despair

  And I reek of self-deprecating and injurious sin

  Last night’s indiscretion hangs like dense fog in the air

  For surely I am a horrific offender – far lower than all men

  Ill-fated of my own accord? This my wounded soul cannot afford!

  But all are fiends with dirty souls, having fallen short of His glory

  Our Lord declared there is none worthy (no, not even ONE!)

  His uncorrupted blood expunges every decadent story

  Heaven’s eternal victories can never be undone

  For it was right here, this very morning,

  In the cooling breeze of the garden,

  Forgiveness outshone mourning

  And I acquired pardon

  I have blessed

  Life

  "From Knife to Cross"

  By Trey Weddle, written at age 12

  This poem simply blew my mind. Trey didn’t ask my advice on it, and doesn’t know anyone who has gone through the kind of transformation his words depict. As writers do, he merely took an idea, projected his own feelings and imagination into it, and wrote it. Trey is fascinated with the show, “Gangland,” and says this is what gave him the original inspiration.

  Shootouts to grill-outs

  Drive-bys to drive-thrus

  Gangs to churches

  Cursing to praying

  I was saved by God

  I praise Him

  And I will praise Him for the rest of my life

  I love you God

  I will always praise You

  I will praise You

  Titles G – L

  “Galumphing Shlub”

  Everyone has had those times when you just feel flat-out stupid. Perhaps you said or did something in front of someone that left you feeling like a real idiot; a shlub. This poem is sort of a Seussy tribute to that moment. One intriguing side note: my wife HATES this poem. She finds it revolting, which just tickles me to no end.

  Some pop and some wow

  And yet others glub

  Yawning I bow

  I’m a galumphing shlub

  My gravy-beard sweats

  In a bowl full’a grub

  It’s as gangrene and wet

  As a kankle foot-stub

  Crunchy green ge
latin

  Sputters and blubs

  Then crawls off the plate

  And goes SPLORCH! like a nub

  Chubby I fall

  In a thorn-sticky shrub

  Gotta bleeding eyeball

  Soaked in alcohol rub

  Pudgy man-beast

  In a ketchupy tub

  Like a kick in the shins

  I’m a galumphing shlub

  "Gentleman Will"

  For my uncle, William Stroud

  Gonna tell you a story ‘bout Gentleman Will

  A man who adversity cannot keep still

  A man of few words and a man of the Cross

  Whose faith is rock-steady through setbacks and loss

  Gentleman Will flew to meet Uncle Sam

  When he served in the Army in Vietnam

  But he kept his cool, even through that mad war

  ‘Cuz he is unshakable, straight to the core

  Will lost his daddy in March, '97

  When cancer advanced and sent him to Heaven

  And then Will lost mama some three years ago

  When she went to meet Jesus, to leave us below

  But Will just keeps running and winning the race

  With a tear in his eye and a smile on his face

  And even through surgeries, heartaches and pain

  He will never surrender and rarely complain

 

  Ole Will doesn’t chase after silver or gold

  ‘Cuz he's not a rich man (unless you count the soul)

  But wealthy in spirit, he’s one of those guys

  Whose laugh travels with him wherever he rides

  This poem's for him ‘cuz I don't think I've mentioned

  My love for ole Will, though it was my intention

  I don't wanna live like that cowboy, Wild Bill

  Oh Lord, let me live just like Gentleman Will

  “Give it a Minute”

  I know some long to die

  And I relate to what they’re feeling

  They tire in expectation

  Of a nonexistent healing

  They’re trapped in melancholy

  And desire the “sleep” of death

  They dream of varied methods

  Which can steal away their breath

  Their days are long and weary

  And their nights are ebbing dreams

  Bitterly they cry themselves

  To sleep each night it seems

  They’ve sampled meditation

  But it didn’t help the pain

  Even drugs and alcohol

  Won’t make it go away

  They let the whole scenario

  Play out inside their mind

  How and when they’ll kill themselves -

  The “peace” their soul will find

  So pray you find the moment

  When alternatives are nil

  And keep in mind that when they die

  Their soul will not lie still

  Remember there’s a Heaven

  And remember there’s a Hell

  Remember Satan’s all-too-real

  And they’re under his spell

  A spell of dark confusion

  That has wrapped around their brain

  The devil has dispatched an imp

  To goad them toward insane

  Tell them God is real

  And what the Bible says is true

  Tell them God did send His son

  To die for me and you

  Remember, when they die,

  By the stroke of their own hand,

  Their soul is cruelly dragged

  To a forever-nightmare land

  Remember at that moment

  When the peace they long for dies,

  They’ll find “sweet suicide” was all

  An ugly web of lies

  To seekers of eternal truth

  We challenge them with this:

  Can they talk to Heaven

  And not shake an angry fist?

  Will they whisper Jesus’ name

  To find out if He’s real?

  The One they thought a fairy tale

  Through you can be revealed

  Pray these precious children

  Cry out in their way to God

  And pray they’ll find this deathly lie

  Is all a grim facade

  We’ll stand with them today

  And pray their mind discover peace

  The yearning of our hearts

  Is for these thoughts to promptly cease

  Pray they do not victimize

  Themselves with such a crime

  Give it just a minute -

  They’ll find harmony in time

  “God/Man”

  I can’t stand here and produce

  Any physical proof of God, man

  Like a row of thorn-bushes

  Or a dented tin can

  But I understand

  That’s what some need

  They ask, “Why should I waste

  My Sunday in a padded seat

  Listening to stories

  Of how Jesus chose to bleed?

  Why? When I can wear a string of beads

  Or help the street-corner hungry to feed?”

  But we know God is alive

  Every vein in our bodies sings His praise

  His blessed, joyful presence walks with us

  All our days

  It’s not simply a phase

  For the phase was our doubt

  When we swore that, like them,

  “Selfish pleasure is what life is about”

  For some, it took going through

  A frightful, spiritual drought

  Before we figured it out

  And now we smile

  While they, seething, shout

  “God, I Hate That Man”

  God, I HATE that man in the mirror

  And self-hatred breeds when the image gets clearer

  Bloated, gray and balding, skin sags

  Stretch marks, bent back, scars and eye bags

  A picture that sits on my desk at work

  Is me at 19 with an arrogant smirk

  Standing by one who would be my wife

  The joy of my heart; the love of my life

  But the kid in the picture (the one with the smile)

  What lessons in store, what a long, grueling mile

  Swelling with anger, depression and pride

  Thank GOD for the young woman there by his side!

  The mirror was kinder in my younger years

  But the man I see now is less driven by fears

  The one staring back at me has a great life

  Two wonderful children; a fantastic wife

  God help me not hate the man in the mirror

  And may I accept him as Heaven draws nearer

  For this man’s more simple to love by a mile

  Than the kid in the picture…the one with the smile

  The man I am now has faith like a rock

  And finds simple laughter in my daily walk

  Kinder and funnier, with anger at bay

  Braving life’s trials like a prep school ballet

  God, you love them the same, I know

  But I love You more every day as I grow

  So I promise I’ll try to love me like you do

  And let love and laughter skew my worldview

  “Gotta Lot”

  I’ve gotta lot to be angry about

  Of this I have no doubt

  Mislaid plans

  Mood-shifting sands

  Back-stabbing clans

  The injustice forced upon me as a child

  The taunting of others, repulsive and vile

  My spine bending, twisting in degeneration

  Arthritic (my pain doesn’t take a vacation)

  Depression, oppression…I’m tired and bitter

  Unfulfilled dreams ‘cross this landscape are littered

  Yesterday screams

  M
alevolent schemes

  Pain so extreme

  I’ve gotta lot to be happy about

  Of this I have no doubt

  Peace and laughter

  A promise of the hereafter

  Life’s better-promised next chapter

  The universe-shattering laugh of a child

  Redemption that washes away all the bile

  A ‘never die’ spirit despite my frustration

  The pictures from my last Orlando vacation

  The love of a woman who knows I am bitter

  Yet never gave up on me; she is no quitter

  A family so beloved

  A past I’m finally free of

  Serenity, like doves

  Yup, I’ve gotta lot to be happy about

  "Hall of the Funeral Stare"

  Tattered walls bustle with comings and goings

  While spirits are strikingly bare

  Patron Saint Hope sail us fathoms away

  From the Hall of the Funeral Stare…

  That place, oh that place! See, it haunts us at night!

  Their gaunt cheeks will zag thru our sleep!

  Movies of bedrails and bedsores and bedpans

  Have battered us mad as a creep

  Residents who at one time were conventional

  Grandparents, neighbors and friends

  Watch their identities scramble away

  Leaving zombies who beg for the end

  Trailers, apartments and farmhouses

  Everything gone, save a prisoner's chair

  Saint Uninsanity shy us away

  From the Hall of the Funeral Stare

  Black'n'white photographs litter the place

  Mocking each as they shuffle on by

  Once-a-month grandbabies tickle their hearts

  But are gone in the blink of an eye

  What a grim circle we all must endure

  Thrashing all of us into the ground

  Never secede! Let us forge a new creed!

  We can battle the waves ‘til we drown!

  If our compassion can bully a grin